Tunnels 05 - Spiral

the same number again in the adjoining warehouses. Then we’ll bring in the humidifiers and fine-tune the atmosphere. We want everything to be perfect.” Putting his head back, he sniffed the air, then clapped his gloved hands together. “Our moment is fast approaching. It’s finally coming.”
    “Oh, I can feel it, I can feel it,” Rebecca One whispered. While the old Styx had been talking, she’d slid her fingers down the nape of her neck and had been kneading her back between her shoulder blades. As she withdrew her hand, Rebecca Two saw there were tiny spots of blood on it.
    And she herself was only too aware of the dull ache at the top of her spine, and the irresistible pull of nature.
    Styx nature.
    Although she and her sister hadn’t yet passed through puberty and couldn’t take part in what was to happen here, the longing was intense. And intoxicating. It was as if some strange electricity rippled through her body, fizzing in her veins. The ancient force was calling her, forcing her, to participate in a cycle that took hundreds if not thousands of years to manifest itself.
    Rebecca Two wiped the sweat from her brow. She realized with a start that she was trying to fight the impulse. She was alarmed by this, because why should she want to resist?
    That wasn’t natural.
    She turned away from her sister and the old Styx in case they were able to somehow sense her internal struggle.

    There was a screech and the pipes rattled, then a message arrived with a final clunk. Clutching his stomach, the First Officer lumbered as fast as he could from his office. He located the correct pipe and opened a hatch in it, through which he pried out a bullet-shaped vessel the size of a small rolling pin.
    “What’s up, sir?” the Second Officer asked as he came through from the Hold and into the reception area.
    “Give me a chance,” the First Officer replied sharply. “I haven’t read it yet, have I?” With all the recent turmoil in the Colony, neither of them had had a proper night’s sleepin weeks, and tempers were seriously frayed.
    “I was just asking,” the Second Officer mumbled under his breath.
    The First Officer unscrewed the cap from the end of the cylinder and fished out the small scroll from inside. Due to his fatigue, he dropped it and, with a few choice swear words, bent to retrieve it from the floor. As he stood up, he complained, “Oooh, me guts,” and held still for a moment, his hand pressed against his stomach, and his face a little green.
    “Still bad?” the Second Officer asked.
    As he thought the question was completely unnecessary, the First Officer gave him a sour glance. He finally straightened out the scrap of paper and held it at arm’s length as he tried to focus on the tiny lettering. “Trouble in the North . . . fighting . . . the Styx are asking for all available officers to attend.”
    The Second Officer didn’t respond right away, but it came as no surprise that there was unrest in the North Cavern. There’d been numerous incidents concerning Colonists turning on each other, and he didn’t blame them for it. Many had been moved out of their homes, which were being commandeered as billets for the massive influx of New Germanian troops. And all the Styx offered these poor evictees was temporary accommodation in the mushroom fields, where a shantytown of hastily erected huts had been built on the damp earth.
    Then there was the severe rationing; a huge proportion of the Colony’s food was being diverted to the troops as they underwent their training by the Styx.
    And thrown into this already explosive mix were outbreaks of a disease causing severe diarrhea, most likely as a result of the current chronic overcrowding in the caverns. The First Officer was still suffering from the effects of this.
    So, no, the Second Officer wasn’t surprised there was more trouble, nor that the Styx were calling on the Colony police to sort it out.
    The First Officer was staring at him, drumming his fingers on the counter.
    “I can deal with it if you want,” the Second Officer said.
    “I do want you to,” the First Officer replied curtly.
    “Righty-ho. If you’re happy to hold the fort.”
    Despite the fact that the cells were full to bursting with malcontent Colonists, the First Officer humphed at the suggestion that he might not be able to manage on his own. As he crumpled up the message from the Styx, there was an indescribable sound from his stomach. “Got to go,” he